


And All At Once

by SinnamonSpider



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daycare, Dean is a dad, First Time, Frottage, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Love at First Sight, M/M, Making Out, Wincest Big Bang 2018, and he's a big ol' softie in this, so full of love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-08-01 04:04:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16277450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinnamonSpider/pseuds/SinnamonSpider
Summary: After his last relationship went off the rails, Sam Wesson packed up his life, moved to a new city, and opened his own business. Two years later, everything is running smoothly and Sam's life is back on track.Until Dean Smith walks through the door of Special Kids Daycare and everything goes crazy once more.





	And All At Once

**Author's Note:**

> It's Wincest Big Bang time, y'all. 
> 
> I was so lucky to work with txdora again - her art is always such a perfect interpretation of the pictures I try to paint with my words, and I'm thrilled that she keeps picking my fics. 
> 
> If you're wondering if I named Sam's daycare after Azazel's "special kids", you're absolutely right. I thought of it and laughed at the idea, but fully intended to change it. Nothing else seemed to fit, and I was still just as amused, so it stayed. 
> 
> Title is from "King Of My Heart" by Taylor Swift, which I had on repeat the first time I sat down to write - and knocked out 8k words in one sitting. Shit got real. 
> 
> Standard disclaimers apply. Feedback is so loved.

 

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/152189271@N05/30340074367)

 

Sam pulled his key from the lock and slipped inside, locking the door behind him once more. Bucket-sized coffee in hand, he picked his way carefully across the dark room.

“Motherfuck-!” Obviously not carefully enough: he had tripped over something that had let out an agonized squeak. He kicked whatever it was aside and continued to the kitchen, gritting his teeth as hot coffee dripped over his hand.

Setting the coffee down on the counter, he slapped his clean hand at the bank of light switches on the wall, flooding the daycare with bright fluorescent lights. Swearing under his breath, Sam rinsed his coffee-burned hand under cool water, then stuck his head around the doorway to see what he’d stumbled over.

A large plush moose lay where he’d kicked it, head resting despondently on the ground, limbs splayed pitifully. “Carly, I swear to God…” Sam cursed out the evening teacher from the night before - the one who had been in charge of closing up: which, as Sam had repeatedly told her, included making sure all of the toys were packed away. Scanning the rest of the room, Sam noticed other things out of place: two Barbies lay abandoned on the floor right next to their plastic bin, and a jar of Playdoh had been left open on the kid-sized table in the craft area.

Sam crossed the floor, stooping to pick up the abused moose and deposit him in his rightful home on the shelf. He sighed as he picked up the open Playdoh container, poking one long finger hopefully inside. No luck: the electric blue dough had dried out overnight, solidifying into a crusty lump.

Sam chucked the lidless container into the trash - which hadn’t been emptied, because of course it hadn’t, because that too was Carly’s task - and made a mental note to assign Amanda to a week of nights to observe Carly’s closing procedures. She’d hate him for it, but Carly was good with the kids and Sam hated to lose her for that reason alone, so he needed to work with her, rather than just fire her ass like his first (admittedly pissed-off) instinct had been. Amanda could hate him for a week. It’d be worth it.

A frantic banging on the front window made Sam jump. It was just past six in the morning - an hour still until they opened. He had come in early to plow through the mountain of paperwork waiting for him in the back office. There weren’t supposed to be any kids yet. All his parents knew the hours. So who the hell was this guy peering in through the window?

He didn’t recognize the guy, but he knew the little girl in the guy’s arms: Athena. Just over two years old; a sweet-natured kid with a mischievious streak and a grin to match. Athena was always dropped off and picked up by her mother Cassie, or by her grandmother. In the six months Athena had been at Special Kids, Sam had never seen the father. This tall, dark blonde, harried-looking guy must be him.

Sam unlocked the door and cracked it open as the guy rushed over from the window. “You know we’re not open for another hour, right?”

“What? Oh, man,” the guy said, raking the hand that wasn’t holding his daughter through his hair distractedly. “I could swear Cassie said six. I saw the lights on, so I figured…” He trailed off, looking pleadingly at Sam, who stared back impassively.

Athena broke the awkward silence. “Sam!” she chirped, reaching out to her teacher.

“You’re Sam?” the guy asked quickly. Sam nodded, bopping Athena lightly on her nose and smiling at her giggle. “Oh,” the guy continued, a puzzled look on his face. Sam noticed in passing that his eyes were the same green as Athena’s, big and vibrant and expressive. “Cassie’s always going on about you. Says you’re the best preschool teacher ever. I figured Sam was short for Samantha.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Didn’t think she was talking about a guy.”

Sam had encountered this before; at least this guy just seemed politely surprised, as opposed to the more hostile reactions he’d gotten in the past. He’d been called a pervert - and worse - on more than one occasion. People just didn’t seem to connect a man working with young children to be anything other than a pedophile.

“That’s sexist,” he said flatly, watching the guy’s face turn red.

To Sam’s surprise, Athena’s father recovered quickly from the admonition, pulling up straight and shifting his grip on Athena to stick out his hand. “You’re right,” he said, those big green eyes looking contritely into Sam’s. “I’m sorry.”

Sam shook the proffered hand in somewhat of a daze.

“I’m Dean. Athena’s father. Although I guess you figured that much out.”

“Uh, yeah,” Sam replied, off-kilter now. Dean grinned wide and Sam instantly recognized the look that would come over Athena’s face when she was about to do something naughty. Athena had a lighter take on her mother’s dark skin and hair, but her eyes and that smile clearly belonged to the man in front of him. _The very attractive man_ , a voice in Sam’s head piped up, but he smothered it down and was pleased to hear that his voice came out steady when he spoke. “Well, Dean, it’s nice to meet you, but like I said, we’re not open till seven.”

“Right,” Dean replied, that slightly panicked look coming back across his face. “Look, Sam, I know I’m early and I’m real sorry, but I gotta get to work: do you think you could just…?” He trailed off, looking hopeful, but Sam was already shaking his head.

“Can’t. By law, there has to be at least two teachers here when any children are present and my next one doesn’t come in for 45 minutes.”

Dean’s face dropped and Sam felt a momentary pang of distress. But in a second, Dean had hitched his grin back up and nodded. “No worries. I get it.” He jostled Athena lightly, making her laugh. “Guess we’ll wait in the car, Munchkin.”

Sam smiled to see Athena’s delight. Having never seen Dean, or heard Cassie speak about him, he’d been a bit concerned, but Athena’s father was plainly no stranger to her. Idly, he wondered what had gone wrong between Dean and Cassie. He seemed like an okay guy…

Chewing his lip, Sam spoke. “You can come inside if you want. It’s a bit chilly to wait in the car for so long. You just gotta stay with her. I have work to do.” Theoretically, he could get in trouble for it, but there was no one to tattle on him and it was chilly. He stepped back from the door, leaving space for Dean to enter.

“Oh, that’s awesome, man. Thanks a lot.” Dean adjusted the strap of Athena’s diaper bag on his shoulder and stepped into the daycare, looking around with interest.

Sam locked the door again and headed toward the office, calling back over his shoulder, “You can play with anything you want.” He heard Dean rattling around the playroom, speaking in low tones to his daughter, her piping voice replying. Sinking down at his desk, Sam dove headfirst into his paperwork.

Forty minutes later, he heard the sound of the lock turning, the sweep of the door, the jingle of keys. Amanda’s voice, sharply surprised: “Um, what are you doing?”

Sam hurried into the playroom to see Dean, who had been sitting cross-legged on the floor with his back to the door watching Athena toddle back and forth to bring toys and lay them on his lap, climbing to his feet.

“It’s okay, Amanda,” Sam called out as he approached. “This is Dean, Athena’s father. He came a bit early so I let him wait in here.”

Dean turned to grin sheepishly at Amanda - the expression was already on his handsome face as he turned - and over his shoulder, Sam watched Amanda’s eyes widen. “Hi, nice to meet you,” Dean said cheerfully, sticking out his hand - the one not clutching the stuffed moose that Athena had handed him, the same toy that had nearly broken Sam’s neck.

Amanda shook Dean’s hand, eyes still wide and face flushing just a little. When Dean stooped to put the moose back on its shelf, Amanda cut her eyes sharply to Sam’s and mouthed “OH MY GOD” and fanned herself dramatically, before regaining her composure as Dean straightened up. “You too, Dean,” she said, aiming a smile at him before crouching down to accept the hug that Athena had been tugging at her knees to bestow.

Sam drew up alongside Dean just in time to see him beam down at his daughter, who had her chubby arms flung around Amanda’s neck. “You can go now, if you have to,” he said, and Dean took a second before he seemed to shake himself awake. His green eyes flew wide.

“Oh, damn, I forgot to call and say I’d be in late. Jesus.” He snatched up his jacket from the tiny chair he’d draped it over, jerking it on over his shoulders. “Thanks a lot, Sam, again.” He swooped down on Athena, raining kisses down on her tiny face until she shrieked with laughter, and then he was on his feet again, tossing a grin at Amanda before slipping out the door.

“Oh my God,” Amanda finally voiced the sentiment out loud, whirling to face Sam. “Who was that?”

“Athena’s dad, apparently,” Sam answered.|He watched the headlights of Dean’s truck sweep over the windows before disappearing into the still-dark morning.

“Where has he been all my life?” Amanda gushed. “Good Lord. He is delicious.”

Sam made a non-committal noise. Amanda arched her brows at him. “Don’t give me that. I saw you eyeing him. You’d have to be blind not to, jeez.” She watched Athena, who had realized that her father was gone and was threatening tears, big green eyes just on the edge of welling up. “Oh no you don’t,” Amanda crooned, snatching up the moose Dean had put back on the shelf and handing it to Athena. “No tears, now. Funny, you never cry when Mommy or Grandma leave.”

Distracted by the toy, Athena’s incipient waterworks died down. She lifted the moose to her mouth, gnawing absently on an plush antler until Amanda pulled it gently away. “Wonder why we’ve never seen him before,” Amanda mused aloud. Sam shrugged.

“Wonder what happened between him and Cassie, for that matter,” she continued. “I wouldn’t be quick to let that go.”

“We don’t know anything about him, Amanda,” Sam countered, feeling somehow like he was trying to talk sense into himself as much as his employee. “Maybe he’s a huge douchecanoe.”

“Pssh,” Amanda disagreed. “Didn’t seem like it.”

Sam was saved from replying by the door swinging open, another of his parents herding their child into the daycare.

* * *

When six o’clock rolled around, Cassie came in to pick up Athena and Sam found himself having to smother a small roil of disappointment that curled through his stomach. He crossed the floor of the playroom to where Carly was handing Athena over to her mother. “Hi, Cassie.”

“Hi, Sam, how are you?” Cassie smiled.

Sam smiled back. “Good, all good.” He paused, then clamped down tight on his internal turmoil and continued. “Met Dean this morning. _Early_ this morning.”

Cassie’s lips turned down in a frown. “God, I’m sorry. He told me about it. You know I told him seven, Sam. Unfortunately he has a head like a sieve for details like that. I’m just glad he brought her to the right place.” She looked up at him apologetically. “I hope he wasn’t too much of a pain in the butt.”

Sam shook his head. “No, not at all. It was good to finally meet him.”

Cassie looked embarrassed. “Yeah, I know, it was kinda outta nowhere. He just got back into town and he had Athena last night and I figured there was no point in me going to get her just to bring her here.”

“Is he going to be bringing her again? Like more often?” Sam cringed inwardly at his own voice, which sounded far too eager and nosy for his liking. “Just, y’know, you have to add him to the contact list for drop-off and pick-up. You know, formalities.”

“Right, I’m so sorry,” Cassie said. She dug in her purse for her phone, hitching Athena higher on her hip. “Here, let me text you his number and details and you can add him to the list?”

The idea of having Dean’s contact information sent a fuzzy feeling through Sam’s insides. “Yeah, that’ll work,” he said roughly. God, what was _wrong_ with him?

Cassie’s thumb flashed over her phone and in a minute Sam felt his back pocket vibrate. “There ya go,” she said with a smile. “Thanks again, Sam.” She waved Athena’s hand at Sam, who waved back, and then they were gone.

Resisting the urge to snatch his phone from his pocket to check the message, Sam walked Carly through the closing procedures yet again, with little hope that he would arrive in the morning to no issues.

* * *

Sam let himself into the daycare the next morning. The lights were already on, so Amanda must have already arrived. Sam grimaced; he didn’t like getting in later than his employees for an opening shift, but he’d struggled to get dressed that morning for some reason, changing his shirt three times before giving up. His clothes always ended up with some sort of child-related stain on them anyways. Perks of the job.

Glancing around the playroom, he didn’t notice anything out of place: maybe his tenth walkthrough with Carly had done the trick. He was feeling quite proud of himself until Amanda came out of the kitchen with a stony expression on her face. “Oh, good morning to you, Sam,” she said, voice falsely sweet. “How nice of you to join me.”

Amanda had been working with Sam for a long time, so he let her get away with a lot, frosty attitude and insubordinate voice included. “Hey, sorry I’m late,” he said. “Place looks okay, though. Guess Carly’s finally catching on.”

“Oh, sure,” Amanda nodded, face still glowering like a thundercloud. “Except she didn’t drain _or_ cover the water table. Little gift for you in there, boss. I don’t get paid enough to deal with shit like that.”

Trepidation setting in, Sam approached the water table and peered in. “Oh, Jesus Christ.”

A dead mouse was floating in the water, forlorn and pitiful. They’d had a mouse or two in the daycare before; a location in the heart of the city was hard to keep pest-free. Luckily it was Friday; Sam would have pest control come in over the weekend and do a full sweep, rebaiting traps and checking for entry points. Still, the water table would have to be removed and fully cleaned and sanitized. Sam resolved to leave that task to Carly. Maybe that would get through to her.

Sam grabbed a disposable glove from the box on the wall next to the first aid kit and put it on. Amanda brought him the dustpan and he scooped the drowned mouse from the water and headed toward the door.

Just as he reached for the handle, the door swung in toward him. Sam stumbled back to avoid getting hit, trying to keep his grip on the dustpan, as the person who had opened the door stepped through.

Dean, with Athena in his arms. As Sam clutched a dustpan with a drowned mouse on it. Of course.

“Hey Sam!” Dean greeted him cheerfully, green eyes bright and wide. “Look, I’m not hideously early today.”

“Saaam, Saaam,” Athena sang brightly, reaching for the dustpan with tiny grasping hands. Sam jerked it away as fast as he could, but not before Dean’s eyes caught the contents.

“Did you kill that?” he asked quickly.

Sam swallowed. Dean didn’t seem like the type to pitch a fit about a mouse in his toddler’s daycare, but you could never know for sure. “No, it was more of a suicide,” he said without thinking, before realizing what he’d just said.

Dean’s laughter broke through the wave of mortification that washed over him. “Oh, the good die young,” he quipped back, grinning wide, and Sam snorted in reply.

“Let me just get rid of this,” he said quickly, trying to regain some sense of professionalism, and Dean pushed the door open for him to exit the building.

He disposed of the little corpse - and the dustpan, the heck with sanitizing that - in the dumpster out back, and by the time he returned to the playroom after washing his hands, Dean was chatting with Amanda, both of them watching Athena settle down at the blocks station.

“Give him a nice burial?” Dean asked, looking up with a smirk as Sam approached.

“It was very tasteful,” Sam agreed. “Wish you could have delivered the eulogy though.”

Dean laughed again, the sound big and bold, echoing through the room, and Sam noted the way his eyes crinkled in the corners, deep creases that spoke to how often his face was lined with joy. Sam found his heart beating a little faster.

“Do you have a second?” he asked Dean, fighting for control of his voice. “Cassie gave me your details, for Athena’s approved contact list, but I need you to sign a couple of things.”

“Sure,” Dean agreed easily. Sam gestured toward the back office and they set off across the floor.

“Sure I won’t make you late?” Sam pushed lightly. “We can do this later.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Dean assured him. “I got my schedule shifted a bit, so I can drop Athena and still be at work on time. Don’t want to miss out, y’know.”

Sam opened the door of the office, letting Dean enter ahead of him and heading around his desk. He grabbed the requisite forms from their folder, laying them on the desk in front of Dean and handing him a pen.

Dean dashed an elegant scrawl on the papers. Smith, Sam noted his last name. Athena had Cassie’s last name, Robinson. Sam filed that information away in his mind, without any real purpose. Dean gathered the papers together and handed them to Sam. “There ya go.”

“Great, thanks.”

Sam filed away the paperwork and headed back around to the door. As they reached it, Dean paused, hesitating for a second. Sam raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “About the mouse thing,” Dean started.

“Yeah, I’m so sorry about that,” Sam apologized. “We don’t have a problem, I promise. At any rate, I’m getting pest control in tomorrow to give things a going-over.”

“I wasn’t really concerned,” Dean replied, smiling slightly. “Just - I do a lot of contract work, so I know a bunch of people. In case you needed a name or two of a good company.” His smile widened. “I don’t do pest control, but I do handle quite a few other things. If you need anything done around the place, let me know. If it’s not something I do, I guarantee you that I know a guy.”

Sam blinked, perplexed. Was this guy real? He seemed almost too perfect. And yet, Cassie chose to raise their daughter practically alone, at least as far as Sam knew, hadn’t given Athena her father’s last name, and this was only Sam’s second encounter with Dean. His curiosity was definitely piqued.

He realized that he’d just been standing there, staring at Dean, and rushed to answer. “Oh, uh, yeah, that’s great. Obviously I don’t need anyone for pest control, but yeah, if anything else pops up, I’ll let you know?”

Dean’s smile was blinding and Sam’s knees suddenly felt like they were made of water. “Yeah, sounds good.”

They headed back out into the playroom. “Cassie never stops going on about this place,” Dean went on. “Apparently good daycares are really hard to find. I guess I’m...well, grateful, y’know? It’s good to have a great place to leave the munchkin with.” This close, Sam noticed that the height difference between them was less than he’d thought; a rarity, with Sam being well over six feet. Dean’s eyes seemed to burn into Sam’s, leaving him feeling pierced and shaken. “And great people.”

Across the playroom, the door opened and other parents came in. Dean clapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder and if he noticed Sam’s twitch at the contact, he didn’t say anything. “Better go say bye,” he said, patting Sam’s shoulder. “See ya tomorrow, Sam.”

Sam watched him tousle Athena’s hair and kiss her cheek, throw a grin at Amanda, and head out into the sunrise. He was still staring at the door, not noticing Amanda until she shook him gently. “Earth to Sam,” she said teasingly. He blinked and looked down at her. She grinned cheekily back at him. “God, you’ve got it bad,” she said.

Sam snorted. “Please.”

“I nearly slipped in the puddle of your drool, Sam. It’s a workplace hazard.”

“Stop,” Sam hissed. “Don’t be ridiculous. We - I don’t even know anything about him. Cassie must have broken it off for a reason.”

“Yeah, ‘cause she’s crazy,” Amanda agreed. “What sane woman would give that up?” She gave Sam an arch look. “Or man, for that matter.”

“Will you please _stop?_ ” Sam gritted out. “He’s got a kid, for God’s sake. He’s obviously not gay.”

Amanda rolled her eyes. “Yeah, ‘cause no one ever swung both ways before. Lots of people have kids, Sam. Doesn’t mean they’re straight.” She headed over to the door, where more parents were filing in, but she shot one final comment back over her shoulder. “You should have seen how he was looking at you.”

* * *

It was just past nine in the morning on Saturday. Sam was sunk low in one of the rocking chairs in the reading nook, waiting for the pest control people. They could be there any time between eight and two, so he was stuck there waiting until they came in. He’d finished all the rest of his paperwork in the first thirty minutes, and now he was bored as hell.

A knock on the window made him jump slightly. He climbed to his feet, heading toward the door, but the person peering in the window wasn’t Roger from the pest control company: it was Dean.

Dean, smiling brightly and holding up a tray with two huge coffees and a promising brown paper bag.

Sam unlocked the door and stepped back as Dean came through. “Morning!” Dean said brightly, and sure, Sam was used to early mornings, but he was never this _peppy_ before noon, especially on a weekend. “Thought you could use breakfast.”

Sam blinked at him, not bothering to hide his confusion. “Uh...what are you doing here?”

To his further surprise, Dean flushed pink and looked down, paper bag crinkling loudly in his grip. “I, uh, knew you’d be here at some point today, waiting for the pest control folks. I saw a car in the lot, figured it was yours. Thought I’d...bring you a snack?” He held up the coffees again, eyes flicking back up to meet Sam’s. “I did say ‘see you tomorrow’ yesterday, didn’t I?”

Sam wracked his brain, recalling that Dean had said exactly that. He’d figured the guy had forgotten it was Friday.

His prolonged silence was making Dean uncomfortable. “Sorry, man,” he apologized, looking embarrassed. “I didn’t mean - I just - did you want me to leave? You can keep the coffee and donuts. My treat.”

“No!” Sam burst out, finally finding his tongue. “I just - I’m just surprised, that’s all.” He reached for the paper bag and Dean relinquished it with a small smile that Sam couldn’t help returning. “Here, let’s sit down.”

Dean nodded in agreement, heading toward the tiny tables in the back of the playroom. Sam laughed. “No, we can go to the kitchen. I can’t sit in those little-ass chairs, and I know you can’t either.”

Dean grinned sheepishly, following Sam to the kitchen and sinking down across from him at the adult-sized table. Dean extricated one of the giant coffees and handed it to Sam. “Don’t know how you take your coffee, so here.” He dug in his pocket of his jacket and scattered a handful of creamer, milk, sugar, and sweetener on the table. Sam laughed and picked up a slightly squashed container of milk, peeling back the cover and dumping it into his coffee.

Dean emptied four or five sugar packets into his own coffee, gave it a cursory swirl, and drank deep, ignoring Sam’s slightly nauseated face. He snagged the paper bag and peered inside, sticking a hand in and withdrawing a massive powdered sugar donut. He shoved the bag across the table toward Sam.

Digging out a honey cruller that was lightly dusted with remnants of Dean’s powdered sugar, Sam bit into the pastry. “God,” he muttered around the mouthful of fluffy, flaky dough. “What _is_ this? Where did you get these?”

“Molinero’s, over on Fourth and Main,” Dean answered, words muffled by his own mouthful of donut. A faint cloud of powdered sugar puffed out from between his lips on the F sound of ‘Fourth’ and Sam laughed. Dean laughed along, yanking a wad of napkins out of his other pocket and wiping his mouth. “You’ve never been?” he continued. “Best donuts in the city.”

“No, never heard of it,” Sam replied. He squinted at Dean. “Didn’t you just move here, like, three days ago? How do you know where to get the best donuts in the city? Are you some kind of donut diviner?”

Dean grinned. “Maybe I am. And who says I just moved here?”

“Cassie,” Sam said. “She said you just came into town.”

“Came back to town,” Dean corrected. “I was born and raised here. Moved away for a bit, but I’m back now. Been going to Molinero’s since before I could walk.” He looked appraisingly at Sam. “How about you? You can’t have been here that long if you don’t know Moli’s.”

“Just over two years,” Sam admitted. “But,” he went on, “I don’t get out much. Special Kids is pretty much my whole life. I’m kind of a workaholic.”

“As evidenced by your sitting here alone on a Saturday,” Dean agreed lightly. “Two years is a long time, Sam. Gotta get out there and explore. It’s a great city.” He looked slightly wistful. “I’ve missed it. Glad to be back.”

Sam looked down at his honey cruller, addressing his next words to the pastry. “Maybe you’ll have to show me around.”

He refused to look up, the silence heavy in his ears. Suddenly, thick fingers appeared in his line of sight, breaking off a piece of his donut and sneaking back. He tracked them up to plush pink lips where the donut disappeared, tongue flashing out to lick them clean of sticky honey, and then up higher to warm green eyes. “Sounds like a plan,” Dean said quietly, a look of undisguised interest on his face. Sam felt himself flushing.

A sharp rapping on the front door startled them both, breaking the spell. “Must be Roger,” Sam said quickly, climbing to his feet and heading out into the playroom. He was cursing poor Roger in his head with every step.

He let the man in, debriefing him quickly on the situation. Roger got to work right away, leaving Sam free to return to the kitchen. He stopped suddenly as Dean appeared in the doorway, coffee in hand. “Oh - are you leaving?”

Dean grimaced, holding up his phone. “Got called in. Emergency. The unfortunate downsides to being the best guy on the crew.” He grinned cheekily at Sam. “S’pose it’s a compliment.”

“I…” Sam trailed off, unsure of what to say. He desperately didn’t want Dean to leave, but the guy had gotten called into work - he wasn’t ditching him. “Thanks for the coffee,” he said lamely, feeling like an idiot.

Dean leaned in, grin tapering down to something warmer, more intimate. His hand came up to grip Sam’s bicep. “Anytime,” he said seriously. “See ya Monday, Sam.”

“Not tomorrow?” Sam called after him, half-teasing, half-serious. Dean shot a look back over his shoulder that struck Sam low in his belly, heat radiating outwards through his body.

Alone in the kitchen, Sam curled his fingers around the warmth of his coffee cup, unable to keep the idiotic smile off his face.

* * *

Monday morning, Sam pulled into the parking lot and struggled his way out of the car and into Special Kids, loaded down as he was with two coffees and a bag of donuts from Molinero’s. He’d scouted out the bakery on Sunday and sat down with a latte, a gloriously sticky cinnamon roll, and a half-formed hope that Dean would come through the door. He didn’t, but Sam wasn’t too bothered. He was actually slightly relieved that the other man hadn’t come by; he didn’t want to seem like a stalker.

Dean had been right - the bakery was amazing, warm and friendly and bursting at the seams with deliciousness. He’d made sure to take note of the hours on the door and was the first customer in on Monday, picking up fresh pastries and coffee too hot to even considering drinking for a while.

It was Amanda’s day off and Priya came in at quarter to seven, smiling at Sam and getting to work in her usual quiet way.

At seven on the dot, Sam unlocked the door and hovered close by until it swung open and Dean came in, cradling Athena against his chest.

The other man looked tired and concerned, lines Sam hadn’t noticed before around his mouth and across his forehead. Athena was curled against him, face buried in the green plaid shirt that Sam couldn’t help notice made his eyes - tired and ringed with dark circles as they were - shine like emeralds. “Hey,” Sam said softly, approaching Dean and giving him a questioning look.

“Hi,” Dean said back, voice rough and exhausted.

Sam frowned, worried. “What’s wrong?”

“Think she might be coming down with something,” Dean replied. “No fever or anything, but she’s just listless and tired. I asked Cassie and she said she’d be fine, but I dunno…” He trailed off, looking uncertain. “Maybe I should just take the day off and take her home.”

“Up to you,” Sam said quietly, “but we’re happy to have her here. She can sleep in the naptime room, unless she starts to feel better. But I don’t want to pressure you.”

Dean made a face. “Does it make me a horrible father to even consider going to work?”

“Not at all,” Sam said firmly. Dean gave him an appreciative smile.

“Okay,” he agreed. “But you call me if she gets any worse.”

“Of course. This way,” Sam brought Dean through the playroom and into the calm, dimly-lit naptime room. Dean settled Athena onto one of the cots, stroking his big, broad hand over her dark head. Then he climbed to his feet and followed Sam from the room. “I’ll have Priya check in on her regularly,” Sam promised.

Dean looked like he could cry. “Thank you so much, Sam. I was up with her all night, just watching her sleep, making sure she wasn’t starting a fever or something. I barely slept, didn’t even bother with breakfast.” He scrubbed his hands over his worn face. “I better go, I’ll have to pick something up to eat before I pass out.”

“Wait,” Sam said, jogging over to the kitchen. He took the cherry danish from the bag and wrapped it in a paper towel, then added five sugars to Dean’s coffee. When he returned to the playroom, Dean’s eyes widened at the sight.

“I was gonna treat you, for Saturday,” Sam said, holding out the food. Dean’s plush lips were parted in surprise and Sam couldn’t help but focus on them.

“Jesus, Sam,” Dean said weakly, taking the wrapped pastry and peeking inside. “How’d you know the cherry danish is my favourite?”

Sam shrugged. “Lucky guess.”

Dean reached out for the coffee, taking a deep swallow and arching an eyebrow at the taste. “You’re amazing,” he said softly, deep and intense, and Sam felt a tremour rush over his body. Dean’s fingers brushed his as he took the danish and held it up to Sam’s lips, green eyes inviting.

Taking a small bite of the pastry, eyes locked with Dean’s the whole time, Sam licked the sweet filling from his mouth. “Mmm, that’s incredible,” he said, and watched Dean’s pupils dilate.

“I gotta go,” Dean said, still low and intimate. “God, I…” He shook himself roughly, stuffing the pastry into his mouth as he turned away. “You’ll call if anything?” he called back over his shoulder, and Sam nodded. Dean disappeared through the door.

“Wow,” said a soft voice at Sam’s elbow, and he turned to see Priya, dark brows arched high. “That was intense.”

“Sorry,” Sam apologized, remembering belatedly that despite how it had felt, he and Dean had not been alone in the daycare.

“Don’t apologize,” Priya chastised him. “It’s about time you found someone to get interested in.”

Sam scratched his head, looking at his employee. “Do you think?” he asked faintly. “Do you think he’s...interested?”

Priya smirked. “I think he would have licked that cherry filling right off your lips if you didn’t have an audience.” Her smirk widened as Sam’s face flushed dark. “I’m texting Amanda about all of this,” she said brightly, mooching off across the carpet.

“Wait until your break!” Sam called after her. Alone, he let his fingers play across his lips, tasting the faint traces of cherry.

* * *

Athena seemed to recover after a lengthy nap, and by the time Cassie came to pick her up, she was her usual bright and happy self. Sam met Cassie by the door as they were about to leave.

“Glad she’s feeling better,” Sam smiled at Athena, who beamed back at him. Cassie gave him a grateful look.

“Thank you so much for watching out for her,” she said. “I would have told Dean to bring her home instead, but...”

“He was extremely concerned,” Sam said quickly, even though nothing about Cassie’s tone was accusatory. “I practically had to shove him out the door.”

Cassie nodded. “It’s so hard for either of us to take a day off, especially with such short notice. We’re so lucky to have you, Sam. You’re a godsend.” She turned to go, but Sam couldn’t let her leave without at least asking her about Dean.

“Cassie - I know this is so, so inappropriate, but I gotta ask.” He hesitated, but Cassie motioned for him to go on, a curious expression on her face. “What...happened between you and Dean?”

A flush played over Cassie’s cheeks and she looked down at the floor. “A lot,” she said softly. She looked back up. “Look, Dean is a great guy. I loved him - I still do, of course. And he’s a wonderful father. It just didn’t work between us, and the idea of raising Athena together was a bad one from the start. So we didn’t really bother trying. Then he had to move away for work. It just...wasn’t meant to be, I guess. But he’s great. He really is.” She smiled ruefully. “I could have a total ass for a baby daddy. I got lucky.”

She tilted her head inquisitively. “Why do you ask?”

“No, no reason. I was just being nosy,” Sam said quickly. Too quickly, perhaps - Cassie gave him a searching look, but didn’t press any further.

“Anyways, Sam, thanks again. See you tomorrow night.”

“Good night,” Sam replied, waving goodbye to Athena as she flapped a hand at him over her mother’s shoulder.

Sam headed into his office, intending to wrap up his paperwork. Instead, he sank down at his desk and buried his face in his hands, Dean’s dark-and-green eyes watching him lick cherry from his lips playing on repeat behind his closed lids.

* * *

Sam felt jittery and nervous on Tuesday morning. The previous day’s encounter with Dean and the subsequent conversation with Cassie that night had left him conflicted. He couldn’t deny that he was attracted to Dean, and if everyone at the daycare could be believed, Dean was clearly attracted to him too. But he didn’t know where to go from there. Was it inappropriate to start dating the parent of one of his kids? Cassie was one of his favourite parents. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings by getting together with her ex.

And maybe he was thinking too far ahead. He had no evidence that Dean would even consider dating another guy. There was, after all, hard proof that Dean was also attracted to women. Not that Dean being bisexual bothered Sam at all; he just didn’t want to make the other man uncomfortable, or have to confront the idea of being with a man.

As he always did when Sam started to consider dating someone new, Brady crept into his thoughts. It was more than two years since they had split up, but Sam still hadn’t really recovered from the shock of coming home to their shared apartment to find Brady in bed with Ruby, their close friend. The fact that Brady had cheated on him with a girl was a particular thorn in his side, although Sam wasn’t proud of it. So the idea of a potential relationship with a guy who was obviously attracted to women was daunting, to say the least.

And yet, Sam realized with a jolt, it was only Tuesday. He hadn’t even know Dean for a week.

Jesus, he was so screwed.

When the door opened and Dean came in, Sam hurried out of the kitchen, heart rate kicking up despite his dark thoughts.

* * *

It was just past seven and Cassie hadn’t come to pick up Athena. Her mother hadn’t come either, and neither of them were answering their phones. Sam, having stayed late to cover Carly, who had gone home sick (because of course she had), was getting seriously worried.

At seven-thirty, he sent Priya home, the law be damned. Once he’d locked the door behind her, leaving his key under the doormat, he called Dean’s cell phone.

It rang three times before Dean picked up. “Hello?”

Sam stumbled over his words like a twelve-year-old boy. “Hey - uh, Dean, it’s Sam. Sam from Special Kids. Sam.”

A pause, and then: “Oh, hey. What’s up?”

“Listen, have you heard from Cassie at all?”

“No,” Dean replied, then with a touch of concern, “Why?”

Sam grimaced. “Well, it’s seven-thirty and no one’s come to pick up Athena. I tried calling Cassie at work and on her cell, but nothing. And her mom isn’t picking up either.”

“Her mom’s out of town,” Dean explained. “And Cassie - she must have gotten caught up at work.” Cassie was an OR nurse at the hospital on the east end of the city. “I hope,” Dean continued, worry now heavy in his voice.

“Me too,” Sam said quietly.

There was another pause, and then Sam heard rustling on Dean’s end of the phone. “Listen, Sam, I’m really sorry. I’m on my way now. Be there as soon as I can.”

“Take your time,” Sam cautioned, watching rain lash the windows. “The weather is nasty.”

“Be there soon,” Dean promised, then ended the call.

Thirty minutes later, Sam was settled in a rocking chair with Athena asleep against his chest. The motion light switched on outside, illuminating the heavy rain and Dean at the door. He tugged at the handle, but it was locked, and Sam was loathe to move and disturb the toddler sleeping in his arms. Moving carefully, he dug his phone out of his pocket and texted Dean with one hand. _Key under mat._

He watched Dean pull out his phone and read the message, then stoop to retrieve the key. He opened the door carefully, holding tight against the rush of wind and rain, and stepped inside, shaking off the water like a dog. He locked the door again and quietly crossed the floor to where Sam sat in the rocking chair with Dean’s daughter snuggled against his shirt.

“Hey,” Sam said, very quietly, looking up to where Dean was dripping on the carpet. Dean smiled down at him, hair dripping down into his emerald eyes. “Sorry I couldn’t let you in. Didn’t want to disturb her.”

Dean crouched down beside Sam’s chair, drying his hand carefully on his jeans before passing it over Athena’s head. “How long ago did she conk out?”

“About three minutes after you hung up,” Sam whispered back. He looked fondly down at the sleeping child. “Did you get a hold of Cassie?”

Dean nodded grimly. “Yeah, there was a massive car accident and she got caught up. Couldn’t even get a second to call you. She’s really sorry, she nearly cried.” Something seemed to occur to him then. “Hey, I know there’s a charge for this kinda thing.” He reached for his wallet. “What do I owe you?”

Sam waved a dismissive hand. “Put that away. That charge is only for those skinflint parents who think they can get a free hour outta me three times a week. Not for you guys.”

Warm green eyes watched him steadily. “I think Cassie’s right,” Dean said softly. “You really are a godsend.” His lips turned down slightly in the most attractive frown Sam had ever seen. “Hey, didn’t I see you here at seven this morning? Do you always pull twelve hour plus days?”

“Only when I have to,” Sam shrugged. “Being the boss sucks sometimes.”

Tucked against Sam’s heart, Athena stirred suddenly, opening her eyes and catching sight of her father. “Daddy,” she said, tiny voice thick with sleep. Dean’s eyes crinkled as he smiled at his daughter.

“Hey, Munchkin,” he said gently, stroking her smooth cheek with one big finger. Athena sighed and nestled in deeper against Sam’s chest, eyes drifting shut again.

Sam smiled down at Athena, stroking her back gently, but when he looked up and locked eyes with Dean, the smile slid off his face, replaced with surprise.

Dean was staring at him with a look so intense Sam was shocked he hadn’t spontaneously combusted. “Jesus, Sam,” he whispered huskily. “Why do you look so perfect with my daughter in your arms?”

“I…” Sam couldn’t speak. Dean’s eyes were burning into him, and his heart was pounding so hard he was afraid it would wake the child. Then Dean’s strong fingers were on his chin, tilting his head upwards, and he went with the movement, tipping away from Athena so not to jostle her, and then Dean’s lips were on his, warm and soft and just like he had imagined.

The kiss went on and on, Dean’s mouth firm against his own. Sam's tongue slipped out to trace the seam of Dean’s lips and he felt, just as much as heard, the soft sound that Dean made at the touch. Dean’s mouth opened under his own and Sam thrilled to the sensation of his tongue sliding against the other man’s.

Athena cooed softly in her sleep and the sound was enough to break the spell that had fallen over her father and her teacher. They broke apart, both breathing just a little hard. “Sorry,” Dean said softly, tongue darting out to lick his lips and Sam’s breath hitched slightly at the sight. “I shouldn’t have - I mean, I don’t even - ”

“It’s fine,” Sam assured him. He laughed quietly. “It’s more than fine.”

Dean’s face split wide with a delighted grin. “Yeah?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Trust me.”

“I, uh, haven’t done that since college,” Dean admitted, flushing slightly.

“Kissed someone?”

“Kissed a guy,” Dean clarified, and Sam made a mental note of the college thing. Suddenly he realized that he didn’t even know how old Dean was. He chuckled quietly. Dean quirked an eyebrow. “What’s funny?”

Sam shrugged the shoulder that Athena wasn’t resting on. “I don’t know anything about you, Dean. Heck, I know more about Cassie and Athena than you.”

Dean’s full lips - fuller now that Sam had been sucking on them - turned down slightly. “Well, I’m not a murderer or anything,” he said seriously, and Sam choked down more laughter.

“I wasn’t concerned about that,” he replied. Dean snickered, eyes crinkling in the corners, before sobering slightly.

“Will you let me take you out?” he asked, eyes huge and green and imploring. “Do you ever get a day off?”

Sam shook his head ruefully. “Only weekends,” he answered. “But tomorrow is my late start day. I’m not in until noon.”

“Can I take you for breakfast?” Dean said, like Sam would be doing him a favour by saying yes.

“Don’t you have work?”

“Meh, I can call in sick for once.”

“Breakfast at Moli’s?” Sam suggested, the cherry danish incident rising to the top of his thoughts. Dean’s eyes darkened, telling Sam that he was also remembering the same thing, but he shook his head.

“No. Ever been to the Salted Skillet?”

“No?”

Dean grinned. “It’s a diner over near City Hall. Owner’s name is Bobby Singer: most crotchety bastard I’ve ever met, but his food is unbelievable. I’ve been hanging around that place since high school.”

Sam dropped his eyes and then looked up through his lashes. “It’s a date.”

Dean inhaled sharply. “God, I could eat you alive.”

Sam trembled at the words and the heat behind them. Dean stared at him a moment longer before visibly getting control of himself. “I should get this little monster off your chest and let you get home.” He reached for his daughter and Sam handed her off carefully, watching fondly as she settled against her father without so much as a sigh. Dean looked at him seriously. “Are you okay to drive? Not too tired?”

“I’m fine,” Sam insisted. He crossed quickly to the office to retrieve his jacket.

Dean was waiting for him by the front door, having slipped Athena’s coat over her sleeping form. “Should I meet you at the diner?” Sam asked, shrugging into his own coat.

“Can I pick you up?” Dean asked, in that same way that implied Sam was letting him live out a dream by taking him out. Sam flushed.

“Yeah, sure,” he replied. “I’ll, uh, text you my address?”

“Nine good for you?”

Sam nodded, unlocking the door. Before he could pull it open, Dean leaned in, stretching up to brush his lips fleetingly against Sam’s, turning Sam’s knees to jelly. “See you in the morning,” Dean whispered, turning and heading out into the rain, carefully sheltering Athena from the weather.

Sam stood in the doorway, letting the rain pound down over him. He didn’t notice it at all.

 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/152189271@N05/30340076517/in/photostream/)

* * *

By eight-thirty the next morning, Sam was pacing up and down the length of his living room, a ball of nervous energy. He hadn’t dated anyone since Brady, not even casually - he’d left his hometown and all the things that reminded him of his ex-boyfriend, moved to the city and opened Special Kids, and given his whole life over to the running of it. He’d forgotten how nerve-wracking dating could be.

Just before nine, his phone buzzed in his pocket and in his mad fumbling to get it out, he nearly dropped it.

_Morning :) Downstairs in front of building. Can’t wait for you to see my baby ;)_

His baby? Sam frowned, confused. He couldn’t have brought Athena, could he? Not that Sam cared, but a toddler was a bit of a buzzkill on a first date, even one as cute as Athena.

He had to keep himself from bouncing nervously in the elevator. As the door slid open, he darted out and rushed to the front door, taking the steps three at a time.

A sleek black car, broad and low and looking like it belonged on a movie screen, was idling in front of the stairs up to the building. Lounging in the front seat was Dean, Raybans on and also looking like he belonged on a movie screen. That grin that Sam had become so familiar with spread wide over his face as Sam approached and headed around to the passenger side door.

“Hey,” Dean greeted as he slipped into the car. He peeked quickly into the backseat, but the child seat back there was empty.

“Sam, meet Baby,” Dean said, patting the dashboard fondly. “Baby, this is Sam.”

“Oh,” Sam said slowly, comprehension dawning. He laughed. “I thought you meant Athena.”

Dean laughed too. “I considered bringing her along, but then I decided that I wanted you all to myself today.” He slid the sunglasses down his nose, letting those gorgeous green eyes show over the frame. “She gets you all week long. It’s my turn.”

Flushing, Sam ran a hand along the smooth vinyl of his seat. “Well, nice to meet you, Baby,” he said, half-jokingly, trying to shift the focus from himself. “She’s a beauty.” That, at least, wasn’t a lie: the car was beautiful.

“Isn’t she? Listen to her purr.” Dean shifted gears and pulled away from Sam’s building, the car giving a throaty roar as they moved down the street.

“Don’t you usually drive a pick-up?” Sam asked, recalling the truck that Dean had come to Special Kids in every morning.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, but only for work. Baby’s my true love.”

He looked ridiculously attractive, lounging in the driver’s seat, one arm casually draped out the open window. He was wearing a brown leather jacket, despite the mild day, and the same green plaid shirt that he'd worn earlier in the week, the one that made his eyes stand out even more.

Silence fell over them as they drove, the consistent rumble of Baby's engine the only sound. Sam started to speak half a dozen times, but bit his tongue each time, unsure of what to say. Dean, on the other hand, looked perfectly at ease with the silence, tapping the fingers on the steering wheel to a rhythm only he could hear.

The drive to the diner was short enough that Sam found himself wanting it to last longer. Dean swung Baby into a spot in front of the building with practiced ease, cutting the engine. “Here we are.”

Sam climbed out of the car, looking at the diner. “I’ve seen this place before. Always meant to check it out, but I could never seem to find the time.”

“You make time for the Salted Skillet,” Dean insisted, opening the door for Sam and ushering him inside. “After you.”

“Such a gentleman,” Sam grinned. Dean winked at him.

“Well, look who the cat dragged in!” The blonde girl at the hostess booth came around, arms open wide in anticipation of the hug Dean wrapped her in. “Dean Smith, as I live and breathe.”

“Jo,” Dean replied. “How you doin’, honey?”

“Better now that you’re here,” she replied, giving Dean an arch look. Dean faltered just a bit, before catching himself.

“This is Sam,” he said brightly, stepping in closer than he might have with a friend. Sam, realizing that he was trying to give Jo a subtle hint, shifted his weight so their hips touched, just slightly, as he extended his hand to shake Jo’s.

She smiled a bit wryly. “Nice to meet you, Sam.” She glanced into the dining room. “Your regular spot looks like it’s free, Dean.”

“Perfect,” Dean said, leading Sam with a hand low on his back. Sam heard Jo sigh as they headed toward the table.

“Sorry,” Dean whispered as they sat. “She’s always had a crush on me.”

“It’s okay,” Sam replied. “I commiserate with her.”

Jo returned with menus and the coffee pot, filling both their mugs with professional efficiency that didn’t betray the hurt she was no doubt nursing. When she was gone again, Dean laid his menu flat on the table. “Okay,” he said brightly, drawing Sam's eye. “Fire away.”

Sam blinked. “What?”

Dean reached for the sugar. He ripped open the packages - only three this time, Sam noted, but this was a standard coffee cup and not the gallon they usually had, so it was still sure to be horribly sweet - and stirred the crystals in before speaking again. “You said you don't know me. And you're right. All you know is that I've got a bad sense of timing, a cute kid, and obviously an issue with personal boundaries.” His tone was light, but Sam sensed an apology for the kiss last night.

“I told you, that was more than fine,” he reminded Dean gently. The other man grimaced slightly, but otherwise ignored Sam's words.

“Questions, Sam,” he encouraged.

“Okay, but you don't know me either,” Sam countered. “All you know about me is that I work too much and I'm a funeral director for mice.”

Dean choked on his coffee, spluttering as he laughed. “Oh, very attractive, Dean,” he chided himself. Sam handed him a napkin, grinning until Dean's own face split into a matching smile.

“So,” Sam continued, “for each question I ask, you ask one too.”

“Sounds fair,” Dean agreed.

“How old are you?” Sam began. Age wasn't a concern to him, but he'd had a hard time coming up with an answer he thought was accurate and he wanted his curiosity satisfied.

“Thirty-two,” Dean answered instantly. “I'd just turned thirty when Athena was born.”

Sam knew Athena’s birthday was in March and she'd turned two just a couple of months ago. That put Dean's birthday some time in the winter. Older than he'd thought: something about the other man seemed so youthful. Not that early thirties was old.

“For my own very inspired and original question,” Dean continued, “how old are _you?_ ”

“Twenty-eight,” Sam replied. “My birthday was two weeks ago. May second.”

“Well, happy belated.” Dean gave him an arch look. “Maybe we'll have to celebrate later.”

Sam's heart fluttered at the implications in those emerald eyes observing him from across the table, and tried to come up with a question that wasn't mundane and boring.

“You said you went to college: what for?” Mission failed on the interesting question front. Dean shrugged.

“Idiocy, mostly,” he said self-deprecatingly. “My dad didn't want me to go, didn't see the point, since I was just gonna join the family business. So my big rebellion was going to school when he didn't want me to.” He made a face. “But I didn't really think it through, so I went in undeclared hoping I'd find something that caught my interest. Considering I dropped out after eighteen months with a handful of random credits, clearly nothing grabbed me.”

“Ready?” Jo was back, looking like she’d rallied somewhat. Dean motioned to Sam, who scanned the menu once more. “Uh, I’ll get the Sunrise omelette, please.”

“Sure thing.” She arched an eyebrow at Dean. “The usual?”

“Don’t know why you bothered giving me this,” Dean agreed, handing back the menu. Jo shrugged.

“Who knows how someone changes when they’re gone for so long?” she said, a faint barb that suggested she wasn’t fully over the situation.

“No one changes enough to skip out on the special,” Dean replied cheerily. When Jo had disappeared again, he looked at Sam. “We were discussing my pointless stint in college, I believe.”

Sam shrugged. “School's not for everyone.” He paused. “What's so horrible about the family business that you chose higher education over it?”

Dean snorted. “It's not horrible. My dad owns a garage, works on cars. He just assumed that I'd run it with him and eventually take over.” He scowled down at his coffee.

Sam looked at Baby through the window, parked in the lot like a sleek black panther. “Yeah, it seems like you hate cars,” he teased. Dean balled up a napkin and threw it at him.

“I love cars. That's precisely why I don't wanna work on them for the rest of my life. It's a hobby, something I enjoy. I don't want it to become my career or my livelihood.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Have you seen how people treat their cars? They're like garbage cans on wheels. It's disgusting.” He shuddered, looking horrified enough that Sam couldn't help laughing.

Sam's next question was put on hold by the arrival of their food. But instead of Jo, the plates were carried by a man in his early sixties, with a beard and the grumpiest expression Sam had ever seen on a human face.

“So,” the man said, glaring at Dean. “Look who’s back.”

Dean let the man put the plates down on the table before sliding out of the booth and grabbing him in a bear hug. “Good to see you too, you grumpy bastard,” he said, clapping the man on the back. He pulled back and the joy on his face made Sam smile.

“Sam, this is Bobby Singer. Bobby, this is Sam. He’s been in the city for two years and somehow managed to never end up in this place.”

Bobby shrugged. “Not everyone is blessed with brains,” he said easily, and despite the harsh words from a total stranger, Dean’s laughter was enough to keep Sam from being offended.

“Never change, Bobby,” Dean slapped the older man’s shoulder as he sat back down.

“Too old for that shit,” Bobby agreed. “Eat that before it gets cold and I slaved away for no damn reason. Sam, good to meet you.” He disappeared back behind the counter and Dean grinned after him.

“Don’t take him seriously,” he said to Sam, handing him a napkin roll of cutlery. “His bark is worse than his bite.”

Sam cut into his omelette with his fork and the taste of the food on his tongue was enough to squash any residual offense he might have taken with Bobby’s demeanour. “Good Lord,” he breathed, swallowing. “What did he do to this? I’ve never had an omelette like this.”

Dean’s smile was blinding. “Told ya.”

“You’re gonna make me fat,” Sam accused him. “Introducing me to all this delicious food. Fat and broke. Thanks a lot.”

“Well, this is my treat,” Dean reasoned, “so can’t blame me for broke. As for fat: I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about.” He eyed Sam openly until Sam felt his face flame at the attention.

Around a mouthful of bacon, Dean spoke. “It’s my turn, I think.” Sam nodded. Dean paused, chewing absently as he thought. “Okay,” he said eventually. “Don’t take this the wrong way.”

Sam snorted. “That’s reassuring.”

Dean’s lips quirked, but he pressed on. “What made you want to work with kids?”

Sam lowered his fork. He got that question a lot, and had never really been able to give an answer he was fully satisfied with. “I’m not sure. I think I like how honest they are; hilariously, sometimes. Kids, especially young ones, don’t lie. It doesn’t come naturally to them. Sure, they make up stories or say things that aren’t true, but it’s not malicious, it’s genuine. It’s not until they get older that the lies start coming easier. Until they start listening more closely to adults.”

Dean arched an eyebrow. “That’s an interesting answer.” He speared a piece of sausage on his fork, pausing before it reached his mouth. “Have you been lied to a lot?”

Sam ducked his head. “Haven’t we all?” he addressed his eggs. He looked back up to find Dean’s eyes on him, serious and a little sad.

“That’s a truth right there,” he said softly.

Sam shook his head slightly. “We’ve gotten melancholy,” he said. “Let’s go back to fun. What’s...what’s your favourite movie?”

Eyes bright again, Dean grinned. “Planet of the Apes.”

“Original or remake?” Sam followed up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know they made a remake?” Dean said, looking artfully bemused.

Sam snickered. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

“What’s your favourite band?” Dean asked.

Sam blinked. “Aren’t you supposed to ask my favourite movie?”

“They’re my questions, I’ll ask what I want.”

Sam made a thoughtful face. “Favourite band...I’ll have to get back to you on that one.” He squinted at Dean. “That’s such a weird question. I don’t think anybody’s asked me that since college. Or high school, even.”

“I could tell you my favourite band,” Dean offered.

“Can I guess?”

Dean grinned wide. “Go for it.”

Sam tilted his head, appraising the other man. “Led Zeppelin,” he said after a time.

Dean’s eyes widened. “How the hell did you guess that? Do I have it written on my forehead?”

Flushing slightly, Sam answered. “You had a Zeppelin t-shirt on, the first day we met. I figured anyone past the age of thirty who wears a Zeppelin shirt has to be an actual fan and not just a hipster.”

Those emerald eyes bored into him. “You noticed what I was wearing that day? And you remembered?”

“Uh, if I say yes, does that make me a creepy stalker?” Sam asked, biting his lip.

“No, but it’ll make me get up and kiss you right in the middle of this diner,” Dean said, intense and yet somehow conversational.

Sam swallowed hard. “Yes?”

True to his word, Dean slid out of the booth and stepped over to Sam’s side of the table. He leaned in, one knee up on the bench, and took Sam’s chin in his fingers, just like he had the night before at Special Kids. And just like he had then, Sam tilted his head up to meet the lips that came down over his.

Where the kiss the night before had been gentle, uncertain, exploratory, this one was anything but. It was electric, sending sparks shooting out all over Sam’s body. His eyes slipped closed as Dean’s tongue brushed over his lips, asking permission in a way that was far from tentative. From what sounded like miles away, Sam faintly heard whistles and catcalls.

Dean broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to keep their lips brushing the slightest bit, and the sensation was so overwhelming that Sam couldn’t contain the tiny whimper that slipped out. Dean’s answering inhale told Sam that he had heard the sound, and he waited, heart pounding, for Dean’s next move.

“If I do anything else, we’ll get arrested for indecent exposure,” Dean whispered, still so close that Sam could feel their lips brush again.

“I’m okay with that,” Sam said, and he heard the tremour in his own voice. Dean pulled back, one green eye closing in a quick wink. Then he was slipping back into his seat, leaving Sam cold with the loss of his warmth.

“Maybe the second date,” he said suggestively.

“Smith, keep your tongue in your own mouth when you’re in my diner,” Bobby said dryly as he passed the table. Dean blew a noisy kiss at his retreating back.

Sam picked up his fork carefully, feeling how his hands were still shaking. Dean eyed him, good humour bleeding into concern. “Hey, you okay? Did I go too far?”

Shaking his head, Sam fought to find his voice. “No.”

An adorable furrow appeared between Dean’s brows and Sam wanted to kiss it. “You sure? You look kinda...overwhelmed.”

Sam took a deep breath. “I’m fine,” he assured the other man. “I’m just...not used to being the centre of attention.” It felt more like devotion, if he was honest with himself, and while it was making his head spin deliciously, it was also terrifying.

Dean dropped his eyes, looking shamefaced. “Sorry,” he said softly. “I can be a bit over the top, sometimes. Cassie always said so.”

His words were casual enough, but there was a tightness around his eyes that broke Sam’s heart. He reached across the table to where Dean’s hand laid on the table, curling his own fingers around the ones that had held his chin with such tenderness. “Don’t apologize for being yourself,” he said seriously, and Dean looked up again, a careful smile hovering on his lips.

Sam left his hand where it was, picking up his fork with the other hand and finishing his omelet before it got too cold. Dean, looking like he’d bounced back a bit, wolfed down the rest of his bacon and drained his coffee.

When they were finished, and Jo had come back to clear their empty plates, Sam checked his watch. It was nearly eleven-thirty, he realized with a jolt. He sighed deeply, and Dean frowned. “What is it?”

“I wish I wasn’t the boss,” Sam said sourly, “so I could just call in sick and spend the whole day with you.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Don’t say things like that,” he said, thumb stroking over Sam’s where their hands were still intertwined. “You’ll force me to take your phone and do it for you.”

Sam made a face. “Trust me, if I had someone useful to pull the closing shift, I’d be fake-coughing into the phone so damn fast.”

Dean grinned at that. “Well,” he said seriously, “what are you up to this weekend?”

Jo dropped off the check without a word and Dean pounced on it before Sam could blink. He dropped a few bills - leaving a healthy tip, Sam noted - on the tabletop and disentangled his fingers from Sam’s, but not before giving one last squeeze.

“This weekend?” Sam asked. “Nothing.”

“Maybe we can go somewhere even more public, see if we can get booked for exposure, like you wanted.” Dean winked cheekily and Sam laughed. They rose to their feet and headed out of the diner, Dean waving to a stone-faced Bobby as they left.

Dean looked at Sam expectantly over the gleaming roof of his car. “Seriously,” he said. “Can I take you out this weekend? Maybe a movie or something?”

“No,” Sam said, climbing into the car without offering anything more. He could see Dean freeze momentarily, and as he slid into the driver’s seat with a look on his face that could make rocks cry, Sam continued. “I’m gonna take you out.”

Dean recovered quickly, eyes sparkling at Sam like something from a Disney movie. “Well, if you insist.”

* * *

 

The drive back to his building seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, and Sam found himself loathe to leave the car. He was pushing it close, was gonna be late if he didn’t get moving, but hell, there had to be some perks of being the boss. As Dean pulled up in front of the steps, Sam slid across the bench seat and caught him by surprise, pulling him in for a kiss.

“I gotta go,” Sam said, pulling back and then pressing his lips against Dean’s again. “Gonna be late.” Their lips were like magnets, irresistibly drawn to each other. “Gonna have to write myself up.”

Dean laughed against his mouth, and then pushed him away gently. “Get out of here, you delinquent.” As Sam slid back across the vinyl to climb out, Dean called after him. “I’ll see you in the morning. We’ll talk about the weekend.”

Sam could not confirm that his feet did, in fact, touch the ground for the rest of the day. At Special Kids, Amanda took one look at him and shrieked out loud, grabbing him in a hug. Sam returned the embrace, bemused. He’d never understand Amanda.

* * *

Still coasting on good feelings, Sam let himself into the building the next morning. His dreams had starred Dean all night, getting progressively more and more naughty, and if there were dark circles under his eyes, Sam was okay with that.

As if he knew he’d spend the night in Sam’s subconscious, Dean showed up with Athena in one arm and a coffee for Sam in the other. He couldn’t stay, he said in abject annoyance; some emergency on the site he was working that week.

“Cassie’s off tomorrow, so she’s gonna bring this little monster in,” Dean said, jiggling Athena as she made an “ahhh” noise, turning it into vibrations that turned into giggles. He stooped to let her down, straightening back up to give Sam a smouldering look. “So I won’t see you until Saturday. What’s the plan?”

“Meet me at my place,” Sam said mysteriously. “Apartment 1201. I’ll tell the concierge you’re coming around two, they'll buzz you up.”

“Oh, a matinee,” Dean grinned. “What am I gonna do until then?”

Sam shrugged. “Pine for me?”

“Heartless,” Dean pouted. “You don’t know how right you are.” He looked at his watch and swore. “I gotta run. I’d kiss you, but we should probably keep it professional here.”

“Yeah, like we didn’t practically make out in that chair two days ago,” Sam reminded him, and Dean’s eyes flashed dark as he turned away.

“If you think that’s making out,” he fired over his shoulder, “you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

* * *

Friday dragged on, a dull, Dean-less day, and Sam could barely wait until it was over. He felt like a teenager, he mused on his drive home that night, which was fun and exciting - but dangerous. Last time he’d felt like this, it was with Brady.

He knew better than to let the demons of a past relationship cast a shadow on a new one, but it was hard to ignore the feelings completely.

He woke up early on Saturday and spent a few hours obsessively cleaning his already-spotless apartment. By one-thirty, he was surprised that he hadn’t paced a hole in the floor.

Right at two, there was a knock on the door. Sam crossed the floor in three quick strides, opening the door to reveal Dean wearing a dark blue sweater and an impish grin. “Hey,” he greeted Sam brightly. “Where are we headed?”

“Nowhere,” Sam said, stepping back so Dean could come in. He did so, looking puzzled.

“Thought you said were going to the movies.”

Sam shook his head. “I never said we were going _to_ the movies,” he said.

Dean arched an eyebrow. “Okay, but you did say you were taking me out,” he said, fake-petulantly. He was following Sam down the hall toward the kitchen, but he stopped when Sam spun around.

Sam stepped in close, utilizing his height, forcing Dean to look up at him. “If we stay in, are you gonna be upset?” he breathed out, leaning in to nose against Dean’s temple.

“I dunno,” Dean said huskily, tilting his head to let his jaw brush across Sam’s cheekbone. “What are we gonna do here?”

Sam crowded Dean against the wall, staring down into his bottomless eyes, more black than green with dilated pupil. “I think we can find something to entertain us.”

He closed the gap between them, thinking even as their lips met that this was the first time he was kissing Dean from this angle, from full height above him. It was also the first time he'd really taken the lead. He’d half-expected Dean to be thrown off-kilter by the switch in dynamic, but the man currently sucking hard on his lower lip was obviously just as fine being dominated as he was doing the dominating.

Dean’s hand came up to grip Sam’s collar, fisting in the fabric as he stretched taller, fitting his body into Sam’s. Sam pushed into the touch, trapping Dean between himself and the wall, and as their bodies slotted together, he felt himself getting hard.

Dean felt it too, obviously, because he broke the kiss and let his head fall back against the wall, breathing hard. “Sam - ” He cut himself off with a gasp when Sam dove in to get his teeth into Dean’s throat. “Jesus.”

Belatedly, Sam recalled that he had no idea how far beyond kissing Dean had gone with another guy. Reining himself in, he dragged his mouth away from Dean’s collarbone. “I’m sorry,” he said raggedly. “I didn’t ask you to come here so I could molest you.”

“Damn,” Dean said roughly, raising his head from the wall. “I might as well go home then.”

Sam snorted in surprise. Dean gazed up at him. “Seriously, though,” he said, raising a hand to trace his finger over Sam’s lower lip. “Why’d you stop?”

Sam couldn’t help himself; he licked at the finger, sucking on it lightly before releasing it to the sound of Dean’s groan. “I...damn it.” He backed off Dean, stepping away. “There’s no delicate way to do this.” He took Dean’s hand and led him through the kitchen into the living room. “Sit?” he suggested, and at Dean’s bemused nod, they sank onto the couch.

“Okay,” Sam said, rubbing his face awkwardly. “Can we go back to the question game?”

“Uh, sure,” Dean agreed, questions already written all over his face. Sam looked down, to where his hand still held Dean’s.

“You said you hadn’t kissed a guy since college,” Sam spoke to their interwoven fingers. “How, uh - what else haven’t you done since then?”

He looked back up to see Dean’s face clearing as he caught on. “I take it you’re not asking about studying or binge-drinking, right?”

“Right,” Sam confirmed.

Dean scrunched up his brow and Sam quaked internally at how adorable it was. “I...okay, look.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I dated a guy in college. Sort of. Freshman year. It was - I guess it was another way to rebel against my dad. It lasted like, two weeks.” He sighed heavily. “It never went beyond making out. So I guess my answer to your question is pretty much everything.”

He looked at Sam with his heart in those huge green eyes. “Is that - are you - do you not want to - ” He stopped trying to put together a sentence and just waited, looking apprehensive.

“I do want to,” Sam said quickly. “God, do I want to.” He reached out and laid a hand on Dean’s face, seeking to comfort. “I just need to know - where you are, I guess.” He went on. “I mean, there’s pretty incontrovertible proof that you are, or have been in the past, attracted to women.” He made a face at his own words. “Sorry, this is sounding really clinical and horrible.”

“No,” Dean said slowly, “you’re right. Athena is pretty hard to deny.” He chewed his lip. “I’m just gonna be honest with you, Sam. I am usually attracted to women. Aside from the guy in college, I haven’t really experimented with guys. I don’t want you to think you’re an experiment, either.”

“But I also don’t want you to think that I’m not attracted to you,” he went on, “because that couldn’t be further from the truth. I haven’t really sat down and thought about what it all means, ‘cause I can’t seem to think about much these days except for you. I know I've been coming off as all confident, but that's because I am: I'm confident that I like you, and that I want to get to know you better, in every way I can.”

Sam could drown in the pools of green before him, but he steeled his nerves. “I am gay, Dean,” he said firmly. “I kissed a girl in the eighth grade and I knew right away that women weren’t for me. I don’t want you to feel like you have to put a label on yourself. I just want to make sure you know where I stand.”

“That’s okay with me, as long as me not being gay - or at least completely gay - is okay with you,” Dean answered.

Sam sighed, then laughed ruefully. “Ugh. This is not how I imagined this day going.”

Dean gave him a small smile. “Me neither, if it makes you feel better.”

Sam flopped back against the couch cushions. He knew this conversation had to happen at some point, but now that it had, he felt drained. Worse, they hadn’t really cleared anything up.

The couch squeaked as Dean sank back next to Sam. “Is it my turn to ask a question?”

Sam couldn’t help but smile. “Sure.”

“Can I kiss you again?”

Helpless, Sam could only nod. Dean took his chin in gentle fingers - it seemed to be his signature move - and pressed his lips gently to Sam’s. They traded soft, relaxed kisses, with none of the earlier urgency.

“I know I have a lot to learn if we take this somewhere,” Dean said softly, letting his forehead rest against Sam’s. “But if you’re willing to teach me, I think we can figure it out, between the two of us.”

“I’m more than willing to teach you,” Sam agreed. “You just gotta let me know if I go too fast, or if I do something that makes you uncomfortable.”

“Deal,” Dean said. He shifted on the couch, moving to lean in further, and Sam followed his lead, falling back until they were reclining, Dean’s body blanketing his own fully. “Now, I think I said something the other day about how if you thought that innocent little first kiss was making out, you ain’t seen nothing yet?” Dean said. His voice, deep and tempting, rumbled through where their chests were pressed together.

Sam shivered. “I seem to remember something like that,” he replied.

Dean’s answer was a kiss, as electric as the one in the diner. Sam felt his nerve endings sparking, felt the comforting weight of Dean’s body pushing him down, keeping him grounded. He let his hands rest on Dean’s hips as the kiss deepened.

Dean hummed against Sam’s mouth, breaking away just enough to suck hard on the spot where Sam’s jaw met his neck. He couldn’t hold back the moan that slipped from his lips and he felt Dean smirk into his skin. He shifted under the length of Dean’s body, craving every inch of contact he could get, and when their hips rolled together with Sam’s movements, Dean gasped against Sam’s neck. “God,” he exhaled sharply.

Sam chuckled low in his throat and tightened his hands on Dean’s hips, rolling up purposefully now. He could feel Dean’s erection digging into his thigh and he tensed the muscles there, providing something for the other man to grind down against. “You good?” he whispered carefully, teeth grazing Dean’s earlobe.

Shuddering, Dean could only groan his affirmation. Sam bit down on the earlobe, gentle but firm, and Dean twitched in his grasp. “Let me know if you want me to stop,” Sam reminded him.

“Don't you dare,” Dean managed, voice ragged. Satisfied that he wasn't pushing Dean too far, Sam got serious. He moved until his thigh was right between Dean's legs, pushing up into the hardness he felt there, and his hands on Dean's hips gripped tighter, pulling him down with each upward roll.

As focused as he was on Dean, Sam barely realized that his own orgasm was barreling down on him. It had been a while, after all. Deciding that he would worry about the fallout later, Sam gave himself up to the sensations: Dean's hipbone digging nearly painfully into his hard-on, Dean's hot breath heavy on his skin where his face was buried in Sam's neck.

Dean swivelled his hips in a circle and Sam was lost, tumbling over the edge and spilling hot in his pants like an over-eager teenager. He latched on with his teeth in Dean's shoulder as he shook through the spasms, choking back the sounds he was dying to make.

When he went limp, hands slipping bonelessly down from their grip, Dean's head raised sharply. He stared down at Sam, blissful and fucked out beneath him.

“Did you just come?” he asked, black-and-green eyes intense and wide.

“Mmm,” Sam hummed, too dazed to muster more than that. Dean's jaw actually dropped and if he had the energy, Sam would have laughed.

“Holy _fuck,_ ” Dean breathed reverently, as though Sam had done something incredible instead of coming in his jeans like he hadn't since high school. “Holy fuck,” Dean said again. “I can't believe how hot that was.”

Sam roused himself, pushing up to capture Dean's surprise-slack lips. He wriggled a hand between them, bypassing where his crotch was warm and damp, and reaching for the bulge distending Dean's jeans. “Can I?” he asked, watching Dean's face carefully.

A split-second flash of uncertainty flickered over his features, but it cleared almost as quickly as it had appeared. “Yeah,” Dean answered, voice rough, desire obviously winning out over any qualms that he might have had.

“Switch places,” Sam urged, nudging at Dean's shoulder. Dean climbed off him, leaving enough space for Sam to slide out and off the couch. He knelt on the floor as Dean turned to lay back on the cushions, questions that Sam fully intended to answer written on his face.

Sam leaned over Dean and captured his lips in a teasing kiss. He sucked Dean's full lower lip into his mouth, biting gently. Mouth pleasantly occupied, Sam let his hand creep beneath Dean's shirt, already rucked up above his bellybutton with their earlier enthusiastic movements. He stroked his hand over the warm skin that quivered under his touch, firm muscle evident under a soft top layer.

Moving slowly, intent on relaxing his partner as much as possible, Sam let his fingers play across Dean's stomach, over his ribs. He circled a nipple, pulling gently once it had stiffened into a point, and Dean moaned into his mouth, pushing up into the touch. Sam skated his hand away, sliding back down to draw patterns around the other man's navel.

“Fucking tease,” Dean gasped, arching like a cat, searching for as much contact as possible. “Killin’ me here.”

In reply, Sam dipped below the waistband of Dean's jeans, following the light trail of coarse hair that he found, with a thrill, was more fair than the dark blonde on Dean's head. Just as his fingers reached promising places, he withdrew, and smirked into Dean's throat at the agonized groan that he uttered.

“Poor baby,” Sam whispered, taking pity on the writhing mess of a man under him and reaching for the button of the jeans, undoing them with deft fingers. Dean canted his hips up to help Sam tug the pants down far enough to give him access to the navy blue boxer briefs, material straining tight over the eager flesh below, a dark spot of wetness over the tip. Sam traced the spot delicately and found it soaked near through: Dean must be absolutely dripping underneath. Sam's own body stirred at the thought.

“Please, Sam,” Dean begged, so prettily that Sam was tempted not to indulge him just to hear more. But the sight of him: glowing with sweat, head thrown back, a thin circle of green showing around huge pupils, lip bitten plump and blood-full in his torment - it would do for now.

“Since you asked so nicely,” Sam purred, hooking a finger in the elastic of the boxers and easing them down, tucking the waistband snugly under where Dean's balls were high and tight to his body. He took a second to appreciate the flesh on display for him: good length, thicker than he would have thought, ramrod-stiff and dark with blood, and leaking like a faucet. Sam slid a finger delicately through the fluid spilling from the slit and Dean jerked like an electric shock. “Fuck!”

Holding his partner's gaze, Sam slipped his wet finger into his mouth, sucking deep, smiling at the salty-sweet flavour that burst on his tongue. Dean's eyes rolled back, whites visible beneath half-closed lids, and he whimpered, more like a small child than a grown man.

Sam grinned wider and got to work, palming the head of Dean's cock and slicking the wetness down the shaft to ease his way. He pumped in slow, easy strokes, Dean's hips jerking up helplessly into his hand.

On the next downstroke, Sam altered his movement, reaching down further to tug gently at Dean's sac, careful with the tightly drawn skin. Dean made a noise that Sam couldn't categorize, but went straight to his own dick, hard again in the still-damp confines of his pants.

Sounds continued to pour from Dean's lips, as thickly as the precome still dripping down from the tip of his cock: Sam couldn't catch all the words, but he picked out a number of expletives and his name, hissed softly as though the speaker was in pain.

Picking up his discarded rhythm, Sam shuffled closer to the couch so he could press his aching body against the cushions, humping his hips in time with his strokes. His other hand yanked Dean's shirt up higher, exposing miles of pale skin that Sam wanted to taste. He indulged, stroking on steadily, bending forward to nip and bite at the same nipple as before.

Dean's low cry sounded wrecked, like he was inches away from tears, even as Sam dug his teeth into the nub of flesh. He ground himself harder against the couch, and felt Dean's hips start to jerk out of time.

Sam raised his head from Dean's chest with one last nip. He didn't want to miss the other man's face when he came.

Dean's eyes, which had been screwed tightly shut, flew open as his body seized under Sam. “Sam,” he said urgently, “Sam, fuck, I'm gon - guh - ” His words cut off sharply as he arched upwards and then he was coming hard, the first jet spurting out with enough force to splatter the underside of his own chin. Sam's hand grew slick under the rush of liquid, slippery fingers never ceasing on the heated flesh beneath them. He ground his own hips hard into the couch and came once more, soaking his already damp clothing.

Shivering through his own release, Sam worked Dean mercilessly through the aftershocks, until the other man whined and pushed weakly at his hand. Only then did he let go. With his come-soaked hand, Sam tugged his t-shirt off over his head and used it to wipe himself clean before gently doing the same to Dean's belly and chest. He dropped the sticky shirt on the floor as he leaned in to lick the splash of come off Dean's chin with a broad swipe of his tongue.

Dean, eyes closed and face slack with exhaustion, moaned loudly as Sam cleaned his face and neck. His hands, clumsy and fuck-drunk, searched blindly for Sam, who let himself be captured and dragged down for a sloppy kiss.

“Mmmph!” Dean hummed with shock, and Sam realized he was tasting himself on Sam’s tongue. Dean licked delicately, like a kitten, at Sam’s mouth, chasing after his own flavour.

When they broke apart, Sam was stunned to see faint tear tracks streaked across Dean’s temples. He wanted to touch, run his fingers over the damp skin, over the evidence that he’d made Dean come so hard that he cried. The knowledge was heady, rich; he didn’t know much about Dean’s sexual history, aside from the guy he’d briefly dated, and obviously Cassie, and he wondered if anyone else had ever brought Dean to tears.

But to acknowledge it seemed too intimate; too much too fast, despite what they had just done together, and he didn’t want embarrass Dean or make him uncomfortable. So he stayed quiet, climbing to his feet. “I’m gonna go get changed,” he said. “I’m a bit - ” He motioned down to himself and Dean glanced at his soaked crotch with the same awe as before - and then more.

“Did you - again?” Dean demanded, stretching out a hand to trace gently over the damp fabric.

Sam ducked his head. “Yeah. It’s been a while, I guess.”

Dean’s stunned face was almost funny. “Are you kidding me?” he said weakly. “You came twice, and I didn’t even touch you?”

“Well, there was definitely some touching involved,” Sam said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

Dean shook his head wonderingly. “Are you always like this, or are you just trying to flatter me?”

Sam could feel himself flushing. He chose not to answer, instead turning and heading down the hall to his bedroom.

He returned a few minutes later in a clean t-shirt and soft grey sweatpants. By the time he got back into the living room, Dean had tucked himself away and was draped over Sam’s sofa like a Greek god. Sam had a sudden urge to feed him grapes. His head came up as Sam entered the room and the look of desire, sated but still present, on his face made Sam’s heart flutter.

“C’mere,” he said, sitting up and patting the couch cushion. Sam sank down next to him and Dean leaned in, putting a hand on Sam’s cheek, looking serious now. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he said softly, thumb sliding across to drag across Sam’s lower lip.

“You didn’t,” Sam replied, “not really. It’s just been a while since I’ve been intimate with someone. Especially someone new.”

“That’s worse, then,” Dean said. “You opened up to me and I made you feel bad.” He dropped his eyes. “I’m sorry. I was just surprised.”

Sam reached for Dean’s shoulder and shook him gently, until he looked up again. “Don’t apologize. I’m fine. I just hope I didn’t...weird you out.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Dude, I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on in my life.”

Sam grinned. “Good,” he said, climbing to his feet. “Now, if I put on a movie, what are the chances we’ll actually watch it?”

“Slim,” Dean said seriously. “Depends on what it is, though.”

Sam perused his movie collection. “I just picked up the new Spiderman movie,” he suggested.

Dean wrinkled his nose. “I really wanted to see that,” he said sourly.

Sam frowned. “So why the stink face?”

“If we put it on, I’ll have to pay attention, and that makes it hard to make out with you.”

Sam laughed. “So there’s no chance we’re actually gonna watch this.”

“I’m just trying to be realistic,” Dean said reasonably.

Sam picked an older movie, one that they'd both seen already, and settled back onto the couch, snuggling into Dean's side, big arms warm and solid around him. Even having dated guys his whole life, Sam rarely got to be cuddled and held, as he was usually the bigger one. And sure, he was taller than Dean, but the other man was broader, thicker, heavier, and he folded Sam into his embrace like he would Athena.

* * *

Sam didn't realize he'd dozed off until he awoke, warm lips ghosting over his neck and making him shiver. The movie was over, the credits rolling, and Dean's tongue was licking along his jawline. “Mmm,” Sam hummed, tilting his chin up to give the other man better access. Dean took the invitation seriously, pushing his face deeper into Sam's throat, sucking hard.

“God, the girls at work will love me coming in covered in hickeys,” Sam muttered. Dean snickered into his skin, latching on again and leaving another mark.

“Missed the whole movie,” Sam murmured ruefully.

“I didn't have the heart to wake you,” Dean said against his throat. “You looked so peaceful.”

Sam snuggled deeper against the other man. Dean lifted his face from Sam's neck, moving up to press wet kisses against the underside of his chin.

Despite two orgasms only minutes apart earlier, Sam felt himself stirring at the sensation of Dean's mouth on his skin. Judging by the firmness pushing at his hip, Dean was feeling the same way.

“Is it always like this?” Dean murmured, lips moving over Sam's Adam's apple. “With guys, I mean?”

Confused, Sam fought past the desire building in his throat. “Is what always like this?”

“I can't stop thinking about you,” Dean answered, still speaking into Sam's neck. “I want to stay in this spot for the rest of my life. I want to do _this_ for the rest of my life,” he clarified further, sucking another hickey into the skin under his mouth. “Is it - it's stupid, but I can't remember ever feeling like this about any girl. Not even Cassie.”

Sam's mind was fractured - one part blanking out with pleasure, another trying to remember if he had any turtlenecks in his closet ‘cause he was definitely gonna need one - and it took him a few seconds longer than usual to cobble together an answer. “I - it's not a guy thing. Or a gay thing. It's - _God_ \- I think its it's just a _you_ thing.”

He could feel Dean’s smile against his skin. “Flatterer.”

“I’m serious,” Sam returned. He shifted slightly against Dean’s body, pressing them more firmly together and Dean shuddered and pulled back from Sam’s throat.

“So - how does this work?” he asked, a pink flush that was more embarrassment than arousal spreading across his nose and cheeks. Sam took a second to marvel at the freckles still visible under the blood-rush as Dean went on. “Are you - do you prefer - are you a top or a bottom?”

The question took Sam by surprise enough that he couldn’t help laughing, even as Dean’s blush darkened. “Hey, don’t laugh at me,” Dean pouted, lower lip sticking out in a way that made Sam’s chuckles die away. “I don’t know anything, remember? Big idiot here?”

“You’re not an idiot,” Sam soothed, kissing that thrust-out lip as best he could with the awkward angle. “It’s just not always as cut-and-dry as people think.” He wriggled again against the long, warmth length of Dean’s body, pushing his ass back into Dean’s hips and relishing in the sharp inhale. Dean pressed forward against him and Sam could feel his hard-on nudging into his tailbone.

“Most guys are quite versatile,” Sam went on, slight hitch in his voice as he pressed backward again, Dean replying with a forward shove. “Generally, I prefer to get fucked, but sometimes I like to do the fucking too.”

“Oh, shit,” Dean hissed, dark with desire, his hand clutching hard at Sam’s hip as Sam rocked back into him once more.

Sam twisted in Dean’s arms, turning so they were facing each other, crammed tightly together on the narrow couch. He leaned in to capture Dean’s mouth with his own as he moved until their hips were aligned, and shoved in hard, rubbing their crotches together.

“So while I’ve definitely been fantasizing about riding you like I’m getting paid for it,” he muttered against Dean’s lips, “feeling you so deep inside me I’d swear you were in my throat - ” Dean moaned loudly, breathing hard into Sam’s mouth as he went on, “ - don’t think I _also_ haven’t been thinking about sliding my cock between your cheeks, being the first one to feel you from the inside, show you how fucking awesome it can be, fucking you hard and deep and slow until you’re begging for it.”

“Fuck, Sam, please - please,” Dean panted. His eyes, pupils blown so wide the green was barely visible, darted back and forth over Sam’s face. He looked a half-second away from losing his mind. “I want you to. Please, God, I want you to.”

“Which part?” Sam asked darkly, grinding their dicks together, the sensation frustratingly not enough through their jeans.

“Anything. All of it,” Dean gasped. “Fuck, I need it.”

Sam reached down between them, fingers fumbling with the button on Dean’s jeans, ripping it open and dragging the pants down just past his ass along with his underwear. Dean’s cock, red and weeping, sprang up against his belly and he whined pitifully. “We’ll get there,” Sam promised against Dean’s mouth, as he worked his own sweatpants down. “But for now - ”

He grabbed for Dean’s dick, hand closing around the steel length of it, Dean’s cry loud in his ears. “God, are you always so wet?” he asked, hand moving slickly through the precome dripping steadily down iron-hard flesh. He’d never been with a guy who leaked that way, and it was a surprising turn-on.

Dean tossed his head back, and Sam felt his voice vibrate through where he had his mouth against the long column of throat. “I don’t - God, Sam,” he struggled, words cracked with need. “Not like this. I - it’s never been like this.”

“Okay,” Sam said gently, pressing a kiss into the underside of Dean’s jaw. The other man sounded like he couldn’t take much more. “Relax. I got you.”

He moved his hand, shifting to gather both their cocks in his grip, and Dean gasped at the feeling of them sliding together. “Sam, please,” he begged, hips jerking helplessly. “Please, please, please.”

“Shh,” Sam soothed, working along the length of them, sliding his thumb against Dean’s weeping slit. “I got you, sweetheart. You gonna come for me?”

“Oh God,” Dean rasped, hands clutching desperately on Sam’s shoulders as they thrust together. “Oh my God.”

“Easy, baby, easy,” Sam murmured, tucking his face into the crease of Dean’s throat. He could feel Dean’s pulse thrumming wildly beneath his skin. “Take it easy. Just let it come.” He twisted his wrist, letting their cockheads rub together deliciously.

“Fuck,” Dean gritted out, and he tensed hard, hips stilling in their mindless grind, and Sam felt the throb of his cock as he started to spurt over them. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dean grunted with each jerk of his body, slicking the space between them. “Fuck, Sam, Jesus fuck.” His body went slack against Sam’s, even as he twitched with the aftershocks.

“Good,” Sam praised, using the pearly fluid to further coat their joined flesh. “Came so pretty for me.”

Dean moaned brokenly at the words, limp and unresisting as Sam thrust against him once more, twice. “Jesus, can you come again?” he asked weakly, that same awe in his voice, and Sam groaned at the question. Dean, fighting through the haze of post-orgasm, moved sluggishly, hand slipping down to grab Sam’s asscheek, pulling him in tighter. “Can you, Sam? Can you come again for me? Just for me?”

Sam gasped as his release hit him, less a freight train and more a slow, rolling wave this time, pulling him under. Although there was far less come this time, the sensations seemed to last even longer, lazy and languid and leaving him feeling like he was swimming through molasses.

They lay in silence, letting themselves wind down, nuzzling drowsily at each other until Sam roused himself. “Let me get a towel,” he said, dragging himself upwards and smiling at Dean’s moan of protest.

“No,” the other man whined, hands reaching petulantly for whatever skin they could grab. “No moving.”

“We’re gross,” Sam countered, extricating himself from Dean’s octopus-like grasp. “Gotta clean up.”

“So not sexy,” Dean grumbled. Sam laughed, moving toward the bathroom and returning with two small towels, one of which he dropped onto Dean’s prone form.

“Clean up’s never sexy,” he agreed, wiping himself down. Dean made a protesting noise, but grabbed the towel anyways, wiping away their mingled come. Finished, he held up the towel toward Sam, who grinned and took it from him, flinging both of them back toward the bathroom with little regard for where they actually ended up.

“Can we go back to sexy now?” Dean asked, big green eyes looking plaintively up at Sam from where he was still sprawled on the couch, and Sam pushed away the slightly disturbing realization that it was just like having Athena look up at him that way. He sat on the couch instead, ignoring Dean’s huff, and let the other man wriggle around until his head was in Sam’s lap and Sam’s fingers were stroking through velvety hair.

“I hope that wasn’t too much for you,” Sam said softly, tracing a finger around the shell of Dean’s ear. Dean shivered against him.

“Too much?” he said indignantly. “Sam, that was probably the best sex I’ve had in my _life_.”

Trying not to preen, Sam scratched his nails across Dean’s scalp, smiling when the other man keened and butted his head further into Sam’s touch. “I’m glad to hear it.” He glanced at the clock on the cable box: it was nearly eight. “I - do you want to...stay over?”

Dean groaned, turning his head to rub his face against Sam’s belly. It was like petting an overgrown cat. “You really are trying to kill me.”

“Not really, I promise.”

Voice slightly muffled by Sam’s shirt, Dean sighed. “I can’t. Cassie’s bringing Athena over tonight. Soon, too. I should get going.”

“I don’t want you to go.” Sam closed his eyes as he spoke, scared to see Dean’s reaction to his too-honest words. Silence, and then Dean shifted, pulling away to sit up. Sam cracked an eye open to see Dean watching him with open affection on his face.

“I don’t want to go either,” he said softly, dropping his eyes as his skin pinked prettily. “I wish I could stay.” He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against Sam’s lips. “Maybe next time.”

“Okay,” Sam breathed back, twining his hands around Dean’s neck and pulling him in closer. “Next time sounds good.”

“Saaam,” Dean groaned warningly, but he kissed Sam again, their tongues rubbing together.

The shrill sound of a cell phone ringing broke them apart. “Shit,” Dean cursed, grabbing the phone from the coffee table. “Hey, Cassie,” he said, setting the device against his ear. “Yeah, I know, I’m sorry. I was out - I’ll be there in fifteen. Promise. Okay.”

He hung up, making a face. “Crap, she’s already over at my place.”

Sam followed him up from the couch and down the hall toward the door. “Hope you’re not in trouble,” he said quietly. Dean grinned.

“Nah,” he said easily. “She knows not to expect too much from me.”

Sam frowned, but let Dean swoop in and kiss him once more. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Of course,” Sam replied. “I’ll have coffee waiting for you.”

“God, you’re awesome,” Dean said fervently, darting up for one last kiss. “Okay, I’m seriously going. Night, Sam.”

“Night.” Sam stood in the open door and watched Dean disappear into the elevator.

* * *

Sam slept in later than usual on Sunday morning, and chalked it up to a well-earned post-sex exhaustion. He managed to crawl out of bed by noon and decided to forego making breakfast in favour of coffee and a pastry the size of his head at Molinero’s.

He was happily ensconced in his preferred armchair near the fireplace, a few bites into an absurdly delicious coconut cream puff, when he heard familiar voices behind him, entering the store.

“Cassie, you can’t tell me who I can or cannot date. I’ve never said anything to you about anyone you’ve dated. I think I deserve the same.” Dean sounded annoyed enough that Sam figured the conversation had been going on for some time.

“I’m not trying to dictate who you can date, Dean.” Even from as far away as they were, Sam heard Cassie’s sigh. “Who it is is none of my business.” There was a pregnant pause, and then she went on. “Although I will admit that this is a surprise.”

“Because I’m seeing a guy?”

“Of course, Dean! You’ve never even hinted about any interest in men, except for that guy from college, but Jesus, who doesn’t experiment in college? It’s just...unexpected.”

“That’s pretty narrow-minded of you.”

“Oh, don’t make this out to seem like I’m being homophobic. It’s nothing to do with that. It’s the fact that it _is_ my business who my daughter is exposed to!”

Sam could hear the fury in Dean’s voice. “ _Exposed_ to? Are you fucking kidding me? It’s _Sam_. She spends more time with him in a given day than with either of us!”

“Exactly!” Cassie exclaimed. “Can’t you see that this could be confusing for her?”

“She’s two years old! She doesn’t understand anything about this - and on top of that, she loves Sam; all she’d know is that she gets to see him more often!”

“Dean, I just think - ”

“No.” Dean’s tone was flat, uncompromising. “Cassie, enough. We agreed in the beginning that we wouldn’t get involved with each other’s dating lives. I’ve kept my promise - even when I wasn’t living here and you had God knows who around Athena without me even knowing it. I never said a word, because I trust your judgement. You owe me the same.” He took a deep breath and went on. “I’m not going to stop seeing Sam. I’m sorry if you don’t like it, but it’s got nothing to do with you.”

“I don’t want to come off like a bitch, Dean. I’m not trying to be a bitch.” She sounded defeated. Sam heard Dean snort derisively.

“Well, mission not accomplished. C’mon, the appointment is in twenty minutes and this line is nuts. We have to go.”

The cheery bell over the door of the bakery chimed as they left. Sam remained where he was, frozen in the chair, until long after it was safe to get up, his mind whirling. .

* * *

His late start the next day meant that he didn’t see Dean in the morning. Cassie’s mom came to pick up Athena that night, so he was at least spared the awkwardness of that conversation.

But Dean was there the next morning, Moli’s coffee in hand for Sam and a bit of concern hovering around his mouth. “Hey, I texted you, but you didn’t reply,” he said, setting Athena down and straightening up again.

Sam had seen the message, but hadn’t managed to scrape together the courage to do what needed to be done. “I saw it,” he said carefully.

Dean’s face dropped. “Oh,” he replied, lips turning down. “But…”

Sam motioned to the door. “Can we - not in here?”

Dean nodded, leading the way out the door. Sam paused to smile quickly at Janie and her mom as they passed him on their way into the daycare.

When he turned back to Dean, the other man’s face was carefully composed and Sam felt his heart twist. “Dean, look…”

“What’s wrong, Sam?” Dean cut in, composure shattering like a smashed glass. “I thought - we were so good, man. What - what’s wrong?”

Sam sighed. “I’m sorry, Dean. I - I heard you and Cassie. At Moli’s, the other day.”

Dean’s brow furrowed.

“On Sunday,” Sam clarified. “I was in the armchair by the fire, I guess you couldn’t see me. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but…”

“Oh, Sam,” Dean said softly. “I didn’t mean for you to hear any of that.”

Tears were prickling in the corners of Sam’s eyes and he prayed silently that they’d stay there. “I know. But it got me thinking.”

“Sam - ”

“Cassie’s right, Dean. Our relationship could confuse Athena. It’s probably not the best thing for her. And we all want what’s best for her, you and Cassie as well as me.”

“Sam - ”

“And then there’s us. It’s too - I don’t know.” He dropped his eyes, unable to stand the growing hurt on Dean’s face. “I’m scared we might be moving too fast. For both our sakes. I haven’t had the best luck with relationships and I don’t want to…”

“Sam, please.”

He looked up then, the break in Dean’s voice enough to force him to look the other man in the face. Dean looked broken, that same look of shame he’d worn at the Salted Skillet and in Sam’s apartment, and Sam hated himself for putting that look on that beautiful face.

“I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” Dean said haltingly. “For the record, Cassie has no right to say who I go out with, and I’m sure you heard me tell her so. That hasn’t changed. And I’m not concerned about Athena, she’s too young to understand anything. And I’m sorry if you feel like I’ve moved too quickly.” He looked away and Sam could see a glimmer of tears in his green eyes. “I just really like you, that’s all,” he finished in a whisper, and Sam bit his lip, hard.

“I’m not saying we can’t - I just think we should...cool down,” Sam said.

Dean smiled, a cardboard mask of emotion. “Okay. If that’s what you want.” He turned to leave, glancing once back over his shoulder. “See you around, Sam.”

With Dean’s back to him, Sam let the tears fall.

* * *

Weeks passed. Dean took to coming late enough that there was always sure to be someone else in the daycare, so he wouldn’t have to interact with Sam. For his part, Sam stopped going to Molinero’s.

Interactions with Cassie were slightly strange - Sam was sure Dean had told her what had transpired. She seemed slightly sad at the shift in the dynamic and Sam pondered at it, wondering if she maybe felt guilty.

He threw himself into work once more, just as he had before Dean came onto the scene. He fired Carly, and though that pleased Amanda to no end, she and Priya had taken to watching him with sad expressions on their faces when they thought he wasn’t looking.

“Stop it,” he said sharply to Amanda one afternoon. “Stop looking at me like I’m dying. I’m fine.”

She made a face at him, but anything was better than the deathbed look. “You are not.”

“I am so, jeez. Am I weeping into my breakfast each morning? Calling in depressed? Neglecting my duties? No, I’m not.”

“Exactly!” Amanda frowned up at him. “Sam, you’re acting like nothing happened. Like that guy didn’t come in here and shift your whole damn world on its axis. You can’t pretend that he didn’t, and you can’t pretend you don’t miss him.” She crossed her arms petulantly. “You made a stupid-ass decision, for such a smart guy.”

“Amanda - ”

“Don’t ‘Amanda’ me. I know you, Sam, and I know that you were scared at how much you liked Dean, but I also know how miserable you are without him. You’re trying to hide it, but I can see it. You miss him. And you know damn well he misses you too.”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t know that.”

“Well, I’m telling you so,” she replied. “You don’t see it, because you’re always so set on pretending he doesn’t exist, but when he’s here in the mornings he looks at you like you’re the only person in the building. The rest of us may as well not even exist. It’s adorable, and quite sickening, and it’s making me sad.” She glared at him. “And I hate being sad.”

Sam suddenly felt like his bones had turned to rubber. He sank down quickly into one of the tiny chairs at the snack table, ignoring how his knees were practically in his ears. “I hate being sad too,” he said quietly.

“So _talk to him_ ,” Amanda insisted. “And don’t give me any of that ‘oh I don’t know if he’d take me back’ bullshit. He’d come running so fast he’d put Usain Bolt to shame.” She shook her head knowingly. “That boy loves you, Sam. L-O-V-E loves you.”

“God.” Sam buried his face in his hands. “I fucked up,” he said, muffled.

“Language, Sam.” Amanda patted him on the head.

* * *

He didn't bother waiting. The few weeks he'd spent away from Dean were more than enough. So Sam planned his attack for the very next morning.

True to form, Dean came in late to try and avoid Sam. But Priya, filled in on the plan (and just as vindictively happy as Amanda had been) disappeared as Dean and Athena came in, and Sam saw the chagrin on Dean's face as he walked over.

“Hi,” he said quietly. Dean flicked his eyes over Sam's face.

“Hey,” he replied blandly. He was still holding onto Athena, using her like a shield between them. She wriggled furiously in his grip.

“Down, Daddy, go down!”

Dean sighed and lowered her to the ground. He turned to go as he straightened up again, but Sam cut in. “Dean, can we talk?”

“I'm running late,” Dean said dismissively. Sam reached out and caught his sleeve, holding lightly enough that he could easily break free, if he wanted to.

“Please?” he said softly, and while his puppy dog eyes weren't quite as good as Dean's or Athena’s, they must have been good enough, because Dean stayed, leaving his arm caught in Sam's grip. He looked up expectantly.

Sam cut to the chase. “I miss you.”

Dean chewed his lip, consternation on his features. “I'm sorry to hear that,” he said eventually.

“Dean, I messed up,” Sam said plaintively. “Big time. I was scared and stupid and instead of being an adult about it, I went and hid under my bed.” He glanced around at the daycare, at the kids running around. “Guess it comes with the territory.”

He was rewarded with the hint of a smile playing around Dean's lips.

“I know everyone's had shitty relationships,” he continued, “and it's a shitty excuse, so I won't try and make that my reason. Truth is, I don't really have a reason aside from being too complacent. I kinda had to build my life up from the ashes and then you come in and everything gets so hot I'm afraid it'll all burn down again. But those are my hang-ups and I shouldn't have made them ours.” He hesitated, but forged ahead. “I'd like to make other things ours though. Good things. If you'll have me.”

“Don't be stupid,” Dean replied. The smile had dropped off his face and Sam felt his heart falter. Dean went on. “Of course I'll have you. If you'll have me?”

Sam blinked in surprise at the words.

“Hah! Told you so!”

Amanda, who had walked in just in time to hear the last of the exchange, beamed at them.

“Jesus, Amanda,” Sam groaned. Dean grinned.

“There's two of you here now,” he said as Priya came out of the kitchen, smiling brightly, “so can I steal your boss away for a minute?”

“Of course!” Amanda exclaimed indignantly, as though offended at the very question. “Take him outta here. I'd prefer if he'd go for the whole day, but I know better.”

“You'd better,” Sam returned, even as Dean shifted so he was tugging on Sam's sleeve instead, pulling him out the door.

Dean dragged him over to where Baby was parked and pushed him up against the car. “So…”

Sam smiled. “Yeah, so…”

“Can I kiss you, Sam?”

“You never have to ask,” Sam replied, yanking Dean in by the collar.


End file.
